


Za Woka Genava

by dimeliora



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sam, M/M, Rimming, Sibling Incest, The Sims, crackish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:24:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6580894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimeliora/pseuds/dimeliora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam finds that Dean has picked up a new hobby, and he's not too sure that he'll survive it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Za Woka Genava

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merakieros](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merakieros/gifts).



> Written for the smpc and as a collaboration with merakieross who made absolutely lovely art and hurt herself greatly doing experiments and research. All the bits in this actually happened in real life. EVEN THE LAST ONE DON'T TRY TO TELL US DIFFERENT.

If you live long enough, Sam muses as he stares at Dean’s hands trying to shield the screen of the laptop from him, you will eventually see everything. 

And it’s still great that Dean has his own laptop now. It cuts down on the number of viruses Sam finds in his own system. Removes the incredibly long string of cookies and malware pop-ups from weird porn sites Dean finds as he’s browsing for whatever thrill gets him off in the moment. 

But in this moment, in this shocking and blind-siding moment, Sam is more grateful for Dean having his own laptop than he has ever been. 

“It’s not what it looks like!”

Sam leans in, the water scented heavily with blood. 

“Oh? What is it then Dean?”

Dean looks back at the screen, set to the highest brightness, damning pixels dancing across it, then back at Sam. 

“It was on the kid’s computer. I thought maybe I would log in and it would have friends of his that could tell us what happened to him that night.”

Sam tilts his head. It would almost be a perfect excuse, Dean has no way of knowing what games are multi-player and what aren’t without research, but he has a cheat code box open. 

“Uh-huh. Sure. Learned anything good?”

Dean visibly relaxes, shutting the game down and turning away from the laptop. 

“No, but I think if we put a little pressure on that skateboard idiot we’ll get what we need.”

Sam nods thoughtfully, lays down on the bed, and pulls the covers over himself. 

“Fine. First thing in the morning. Oh and Dean?”

Dean’s getting up to turn the light off. Hand poised right above the switch and eyes focused on the task in front of him. He tilts his head a little in acknowledgement that Sam is talking.

“It’s ok to play the Sims. I still think you’re just as mature as I did yesterday.”

It says a lot about Dean’s aim that he hits Sam in the face with the pillow after the lights are out. 

 

 

They’re back in the bunker for some downtime, and Sam is pretty excited to go back into the library and start digging again. The Men of Letters have too good of an organizational system, so Sam has stopped looking at the catalogue so that everything he pulls is a surprise. 

Dean would make fun of him if he knew the little game Sam had concocted for himself. 

He’s headed towards the kitchen to get some water before he dives into a particularly dusty corner when he sees that Dean has left his laptop open and the screen is on. Sam debates with himself for a minute, and then shrugs and heads over. It’s not like Dean has ever respected his privacy. 

It takes a second for Sam to figure out what’s happening in front of him. The figure is shifting endlessly, looking around, and Sam puts his glass down and leans in a little to look closer. Sam feels the laughter building inside of himself. 

Dean is creating a household on the Sims. He’s making custom characters, both named Winchester, and Sam looks over the way Dean’s made himself. His brother’s hair is too blonde, but there’s no shade that fits right in the choices. Dean didn’t give himself freckles so Sam fixes that for him. 

His brother has also given himself a ton of gleaming muscles and rock hard six-packs abs. Sam adjusts the sliders until Dean’s arms are a little smaller, his thighs and calves get slimmed down, and then Sam adds just the tiniest amount of pudge to Dean’s stomach. He knows what his brother looks like. He just wants to help Dean be accurate.

When he flips over to the Sammy character any tiny underlying thread of guilt Sam might have felt about playing with his brother’s self-image disappears. Dean has made him a clown. Overly sharp cheekbones, long girl hair, and a skinny string-bean body. Sam goes to work, and by the time he’s done it’s just about right. Minus one detail. 

He has to research a little, but once he’s done he’s got the cheat to fix the problem. He adjusts the Dean character one last time, changes Sammy to Sam, and then saves the household and sets both characters into a place to live before pausing the game again. 

Sam walks away from the laptop, but lingers close enough to wait for Dean to get back. 

And Dean does, mouth full of a bite of the giant sandwich he’s made. He sits in the chair without looking around, so Sam can slide up just a little bit and watch while Dean puts his plate down, scratches his ass, and then takes another messy bite. 

Chew, chew, and then Dean splutters on his sandwich and starts choking. Sam moves forward but Dean’s already got it under control. He turns in the chair to glare at Sam, face the picture of indignance and cheeks a high and red color. It highlights the freckles Dean forgot. 

“What did you do?”

Sam gestures to the screen and tries to control his laughter. 

“I fixed them.”

Dean turns back to the screen, voice disbelieving. 

“You gave me freckles! And…wait. Wait a second.”

And Sam waits a second, because it’s worth it. It’s so worth it. 

“You can’t change their height! That’s determined by age! What did you do?”

Sam smiles and leans over Dean’s shoulder, pressing close for no other reason than to see the screen better. 

Really. 

“You can if you download a mod. This makes them the right height.”

Dean’s eyes narrow, anger radiating off of him. 

“You made me like four feet tall.”

Sam squints at the screen, laughter tinting his response. 

“Did I? Well I must have made an adjustment mistake. Still. Looks about right.”

His brother’s wet finger just barely misses Sam’s ear as he spins away and takes off running. His water is forgotten. 

 

 

They’ve just gotten back from another hunt, and Dean has a set of cracked ribs Sam wants his brother to take better care of. Dean gets oddly efficient when he’s injured, like he has to prove that he’s just fine by fixing sinks or tinkering with the classic cars in the garage. So he decides to skip the buildup and just storm in on Dean doing what he shouldn’t and nag him into resting. 

Except Dean isn’t in the garage, or any of the bathrooms, or the kitchen. Dean is in bed, playing the Sims. 

Sam stands in the bedroom door staring at the sight in front of him. He can hear the music, the gibberish language singing along with the synth rock beat. Dean is glaring at the screen, clicking repeatedly, mouth curled into a scowl. Sam enters without asking, crossing the room and moving around to the head of the bed to look at the screen. 

Little Sam and little Dean are hugging each other tightly, eyes closed and expressive little faces curled into joy. In the bottom left hand corner the Dean figure, closer up and a little over animated, is smiling brightly with a pink background behind his face. 

“What the hell is happening?”

Dean’s clicking angrily on a punching bag, and Sam can see it queuing up on the left but there’s just a picture of the Sam avatar’s face that stays locked in place. 

“There’s some kind of glitch.”

“What kind of glitch?”

Dean’s mouth puckers and he looks up from the screen.

“They’re embracing.”

Sam feels his eyebrow hit his hairline. 

“Hugging? You think hugging is a glitch?”

Dean pokes the screen angrily, burst of color under his fingertip at the pressure. 

“No Sam, hugging is a friendly action. This is embracing which is romantic. That’s why Dean is feeling flirty.”

“Flirty? Dean is feeling flirty?”

And his brother, his wonderful, hilarious, super dumb brother, answers the question without hearing the tone. 

“Yeah that’s what the pink border means. Somehow they switched from being friendly to being flirty and now they’re embracing! I need him to work on his boxing skills!”

Dean is legitimately upset about this. Sam can’t believe it. 

“You set their personalities right?”

Eyes narrow again as he looks at the screen instead of Sam. 

“Yes. I set their personalities.”

“Well what personality did you give Dean?”

His brother’s mouth goes into a tight little line. Suddenly Dean seems to have forgotten how to speak English. Instead his brother goes back to clicking the punching bag energetically, obsessively even, as he tries to get the two split apart. There’s a dinging warning noise now with a message telling Dean the queue is full, but his brother is still trying. 

“What personality did you give him?”

“Shut up Sam. I’m fixing it.”

Sam can’t help himself. He starts laughing. 

“Did you make him a horn dog?”

“I made him romantic. That’s not the same thing. I made you a nerd. I was going for accuracy.”

Sam points to the two on screen, still hugging tightly. 

“Hit x on the face in the queue and they’ll stop.”

Dean hits it too many times, wipes the queue entirely, and then the little Sam face pops back up and they’re hugging tightly again. 

Sam can’t stop laughing. He leaves the room victorious, sure that this day can’t get any better. Dean is too flabbergasted to even try to say something smartass to him on the way out. 

After lunch and a little reading Sam goes back to Dean’s room to find his brother still scowling at the screen. 

“There’s no way they’re still hugging. What are they doing now?”

“They keep interrupting everything I tell them to do to flirt. They keep flirting!”

Dean is on the verge of being shrill, and Sam feels tears building up at the strain of holding in his laughter. 

“They obviously just really like each other.”

Dean’s head turns slow, mouth open in shock, and Sam can’t control it anymore. He starts laughing. 

And then the music on the laptop swells, becomes dreamy, and Sam glances over and his laughter becomes an overwhelming thing. He can’t stop himself. His legs go out and he collapses on the bed, half on the memory foam and half on Dean’s legs. He’s laughing so hard he almost can’t see the moment Dean really pays attention to what is happening on screen. 

“What-how-why the fuck-who would-oh goddamn it!”

Sam’s gasping, graying out a little, as Dean slams the laptop shut and pushes it away before glaring at Sam and shaking his legs to dislodge Sam from them. 

“Why are you ok with this? They’re brothers! They shouldn’t have a ‘first kiss’ they should be being brothers! I’ve been hitting on that Goth chick for three game days and now they’re making out instead! They’re little versions of us! This doesn’t bother you?”

The laughter keeps going, but Sam pushes himself up shakily and takes a step back before he can finally breathe enough to make words come out. 

“No Dean. That doesn’t bother me.”

And then Sam leaves, still cackling a little as Dean splutters behind him. 

 

 

Sam checks back in on Dean the next morning. His brother is still not getting himself in trouble or exacerbating his injuries. Which makes Sam happy, but he’s even happier to see that his brother is still willing to give him ammo. 

He steps up to see that Dean is in the middle of some timed challenge. There’s a list of quest points in the upper left hand corner, and the second Dean senses Sam there his hand shoots up to cover it. 

Both of their avatars are wearing tuxedos. 

Sam grabs at Dean’s hand, pulls, and Dean pulls back. It becomes a fight, Dean’s laptop tumbling end over end along the mattress as they struggle for dominance. Sam reaches out for the laptop, fingertips kissing the keys, and then Dean pulls his arm back. 

They roll end over end, Dean trying to pin Sam, Sam pushing back against Dean, and eventually he gets Dean on his back, laying on top of him and facing the ceiling, pushing backwards to keep Dean’s arms pinned down. He turns his head to look at the screen and reads the remaining tasks. 

Eat the first slice

And below that, floating around the happy, tuxedo wearing Dean in the corner, is the fact that Dean is just married. 

“We got married?”

Dean has been dead still underneath him since he managed to pin him. At the question his brother goes stiff. 

“I didn’t do it. Sam. Sammy get off.”

Sam can’t help but laugh. 

“You didn’t do it? They just decided to get married and you let them?”

Dean huffs, rustling Sam’s hair and wriggling just a little before going stiff and still again.

“There’s a trophy. For getting the wedding right.”

Sam gets up then, uncomfortable with the position suddenly. Dean is flushed, laying on the bed and looking at the laptop like it’s all that exists in the world.

“I want the trophies. Is it so wrong for a man to want to succeed?”

He licks his lips, looks back at the laptop, and then back to Dean. Apparently the timer runs out while his eyes are traveling. 

“Goddamn it Sammy!”

Sam jumps a little, but it turns out Dean is talking to his laptop. On the screen is a giant, floating silver trophy announcing he failed to get a cake produced and eaten before the wedding ended. 

“Can you reload?”

Dean is scowling at the laptop. He pulls it closer and hits buttons, exiting without saving and slamming the computer shut. 

“Yeah. I’ll do it later.”

“Dean? You let them get married?”

His brother looks around the room, anywhere but at Sam, and then screws up his courage and turns his full attention on him. 

“For a trophy Sammy. I did it for a trophy. And it doesn’t matter because they’re not us.”

“Couldn’t you have had two of the other characters marry for the trophy?”

Dean gets up and storms out.

 

 

A week later Sam cuts his foot. 

It’s Dean’s fault. 

Sam comes out in the middle of the night, a glass in his hand, and sees Dean sitting in front of the computer at table. 

Crying.

Sam drops the glass, sure that something terrible has happened that Dean is going to share with him. One of the very few people that they have left alive and care about have passed away. There’s been a slaughter of a school of small children. 

Anything important. 

Instead he sees the little Sam avatar crying over an urn. 

“Dean? Dean what happened?”

His brother wipes his eyes with the heels of his hands, not sniffling but close to that level of crying, and Sam isn’t sure if he should feel bad or furious. 

“Dean died and Sammy is all alone.”

Sam is flabbergasted. He takes a deep breath, the adrenaline crashing and being replaced by a sharp ache in his bare foot.

“How did he die?”

“There’s a control that you use to turn off aging and I didn’t realize it would be like this and they got older and then Dean kicked it while they were in bed and Sammy woke up to him being dead and now he’s all alone.”

“Have you been drinking?”

Dean’s eyes fly wide, shocked and indignant, and then he points to the mourning Sam on the screen. 

“I don’t need to be drinking, that’s sad! What if that was you? All alone and old and nobody to watch out for you?”

Sam takes a deep breath and then sits down on the floor beside Dean’s chair. 

“It’s not us. You said that.” He starts to pull the glass out of his foot and then looks up to see Dean staring at him oddly, concern mixed with disappointment. “What Dean?”

“Let’s get your foot bandaged up.”

Dean’s voice is thick and wet. Sam doesn’t make any more jokes. He lets Dean clean his foot and wrap it and then watches Dean clean up the broken glass before his brother sits back down in front of the laptop and starts a new household. 

He notices Dean didn’t wait to see the Sammy avatar pass away too. 

 

 

Dean has put an incredible amount of hours into his game. He’s leveled houses to lovingly craft an entire neighborhood of places that are meaningful to him. Bobby’s house is crafted to a point that is almost frighteningly accurate, including Dean apparently going through the trouble of finding out how to draw in the screen to create the pentacle in the Panic Room. 

Sam still doesn’t have fond feelings about that room. 

His brother has created the bunker, with only one unrealistic detail in the form of an added hot tub, Garth’s pack house, and the tent camp for Charlie’s LARPing group. 

He has also created all of the characters that live in those houses. Bobby has hooked up with Jodi, Charlie has landed a smoking hot brunette that Dean named Hermione, and Garth is alone and has the highest and dorkiest voice Dean could give him. 

Sam’s actually fascinated by the amount of care and concern Dean has given this. He’s created a life, a little world untouched by tragedy or despair. He’s removed the aging feature. He’s used the cheat code to end death. After he befriended Death which is another telling move on Dean’s part. 

And Sam doesn’t even read more into the fact that Dean hasn’t created the house in Lawrence than he has to. Instead he starts peeking over Dean’s shoulder to see how it’s going. 

He’s putting two and two together now. This is wish fulfillment. Dean is creating a world in which things go well for everyone. Where everybody is always happy, there are no monsters, and nobody gets salted and burned. 

The new Sam and Dean are married again. 

So Sam waits, and he watches, and then he leans over Dean’s shoulder with his cheek pressed to Dean’s and watches as Sam and Dean hop into the bed and begin throwing hearts and feathers everywhere. 

“Hey Dean?”

Dean hums, queueing a bubble bath for both of them. 

“Dean?”

His brother grunts and cuts his eyes to Sam, turning his face so that they’re pointing at each other from an odd angle. 

A perfect, but odd angle. 

“Yeah Sam?”

“Wanna woohoo?”

Dean’s mouth opens, hanging like a door with a broken hinge, and then his brother starts laughing and pulls back from Sam. 

And Sam takes a breath and feels his shame building up and overtaking him. He’s read this wrong. Not dropped hints as strongly as he thought he was. 

But Dean fixes that by pulling Sam in and kissing him.

It’s assertive, which makes all the tense energy that Sam just felt overwhelm him melt away, and it’s good. 

Better than he could have imagined and certainly better than any other kiss he’s had. Dean’s lips are soft, warm, and his mouth tastes like bacon and promise. Sam falls into it. The laptop gets moved and Dean’s fingers tangle in his hair as he tilts his head and pokes his brother’s lips with his tongue. 

And Dean opens up, letting Sam’s tongue in and pressing his body harder against Sam’s. He’s muscle and sex, biceps hard against Sam’s as he tightens them to keep only acceptable tension in the fingers wrapped in Sam’s hair. Sam can feel how hard Dean is through his jeans. He shifts his hips so his own hard cock is pressed against Dean’s, and they rub together to the beat of the Sims music.

Sam wonders if the bored music producer ever expected this Casio keyboard tune to be a porno soundtrack. 

His brother’s fingers leave his hair and tug on the hem of his shirt, and Sam lets Dean lift and tug it, twisting when it gets tangled around his head so he can help Dean get him loose. 

And then he returns the favor by pulling Dean’s shirt over his head and then leaning his head down to bite Dean’s collarbone. His brother moans, fingers fumbling with Sam’s belt, and Sam reaches down and flips the buckle blindly from long earned progress. He goes back to nipping and biting Dean’s chest while he opens his brother’s pants.

It doesn’t surprise him when Dean isn’t wearing underwear. Why would he be? He’s Dean.

Sam wiggles his hips when Dean pushes his jeans down and then latches onto Dean’s left nipple and sucks hard before swirling his tongue. Dean lets out a cry, hips jerking and cock slapping against Sam. 

They fall into it, hands roaming everywhere, Dean’s back propped up against the headboard, and Sam on his knees over Dean rubbing the head of his cock against Dean’s stomach as he takes control of the kiss. 

Dean’s hands grab his hips and pull, and Sam takes a hint and falls back onto his shoulders. Dean lifts his hips up, bringing Sam’s cock to his mouth and Sam watches every second of it. Watches Dean’s lips split around the head of his dick. Watches Dean’s tongue slip out before pressing along the crease of his cock head. 

Sam moans, reaching underneath himself blindly until he finds Dean’s cock and starts stroking it. His feet are pressed against the wall behind Dean’s head and his heels are rubbing on the headboard. 

He’s getting into it, jerks his hips to drive himself deeper into Dean’s mouth, and his brother chokes on him and pulls back coughing. They look at each other for a beat, studying one another, and then Dean clears his throat. 

“I wanna try something. You down?”

Sam nods, and Dean reaches over to the nightstand and digs around before he holds out a bottle of lube to Sam. 

“You wanna use this too or you’re gonna start a fire with my dick.”

“That’s kind of the point.”

“Not literally.” Dean squirts lube on Sam’s hand and then hoists Sam’s lower half up again and disappears from sight. 

He can’t see what Dean’s about to do, isn’t sure if it’s gonna be something he likes, and then a tongue touches his asshole and Sam kicks the shelf rattling everything there with the force of it as noise is wrenched from his mouth. 

His brother ignores that, mouth opening against Sam’s skin and tongue pressing against Sam’s hole once more before dragging in a wet circle around the rim. Sam levers himself up shakily with one arm to get a good angle and then grips Dean’s cock with his lubricated hand. 

It’s weird. One, Sam is being basically eaten out and he’s never even really imagined that. It’s great though. Weird, but when Dean’s tongue breaches him Sam loves it. Loves the way Dean gets really into it within seconds like Sam is something special and tasty that he can’t get enough of. 

Two, Sam has never gripped a dick from this angle. Dean is thicker than him. A little shorter, but definitely thicker. He starts rolling his fingers while jerking Dean off and enjoys the way that Dean moans into his hole, jaw trembling and hands gripping Sam’s hips so tight that he’s sure there’s going to be bruises. 

Sam speeds up, thumb rubbing into the slit at the head on every couple of upstrokes and Dean slipping fingers into him along with his tongue. And then there’s a burst of pleasure when Dean hits what must be his prostate and then sticks right there. Sam can actually feel his brother’s smirk. 

And then there’s a little interruption and Sam feels his hips lowered by Dean’s hands. He cuts in before Dean can earn himself a swift and terrible death. 

“You stop this to peek at that screen and I’ll skin you.”

Dean’s tongue does double time and his fingers press against Sam’s prostate and rub. Sam reaches down and rubs Dean’s balls, and then the tongue is gone and Dean is lowering Sam’s hips. 

“Sammy. Roll over.”

He looks Dean up and down, his brother’s shoulders pressed against the headboard, one leg curled a bit and the other bent at the knee. Cock glistening and hard. Sam looks it over, takes a breath, and then puts the ball of his right foot down on the mattress and the leaves his left leg hooked over Dean’s shoulder. 

“Sammy?”

He pushes himself upright, aims, and then slides down Dean’s cock. 

It hurts a little, nothing Sam can’t handle and nothing that dims Sam’s erection, but enough he can feel it. He closes his eyes and focuses on that stretch, on the feeling of Dean’s cock splitting into him for the first time, on the pace of working down and down until he’s pressed flush against the base of Dean’s cock. 

“Holy fuck Sammy.”

At that he opens his eyes to see a look of shock on Dean’s face mixed with a love that Sam can’t interpret as anything else. He scrambles in his head trying to find something sarcastic or smart-ass to say to lessen the impact of the moment.

But there really isn’t anything. 

Dean is in as foreign of territory as Sam is, and they’re both learning together. Dean is learning how Sam feels on the inside, and Sam is learning that Dean’s cock is hot and hard, and that he likes the burn of the stretch.

“Yeah. Holy fuck.”

Dean starts to move his hips, but because of the angle he’s not getting enough movement to really do enough. There’s friction, but Sam wants more of it. So he starts shifting the weight from his right foot to his left and then back again. Lifting and lowering himself on Dean at an ever increasing pace. 

It feels so fucking good. So much better than he could have imagined. Dean’s got one hand holding himself steady on the bed, the other is gripping Sam’s thigh. His brother can’t seem to think of anything smart to say either, his teeth digging into his lip and his hips shifting and shifting as he spurs Sam on to faster movements. His brother’s eyes are practically squinted as he grunts and moans.

“Dean. Fucking. Fucking grab me.”

And Dean gets the terrible direction. Spits on his palm and wraps a hand around Sam’s dick before he starts jerking him off. He keeps time with Sam, hips making shallow little movements and fists tight around Sam’s dick. It’s perfect, and Sam fucks down and then back up enjoying every second of it until he hears Dean make a thick cry and feels his brother unloading inside of him. 

Sam keeps going though. Rides Dean through it until his own orgasm hits and he clenches down on Dean eliciting another low moan as he spurts all over Dean’s hand and his stomach. 

His arms collapse and Sam falls back onto his shoulders. Dean slips out of him and flops down beside him. 

They lay there wordless, breathing heavy, and then Dean links fingers with him. 

“Wanna take a shower?”

Sam laughs, husky and low before he turns his head and kisses Dean once. 

“Sure. We can do that.”

Dean’s face turns pensive and his lips go into a line. Sam worries for half a second that things are about to go bad, but Dean doesn’t keep him in suspense long. 

“Am I gonna get skinned if I pause it before we walk away?”

Sam feels that reaching down and pinching Dean’s ass is totally warranted and justified.


End file.
